


so that i can run with the wolves

by kyrilu



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Creepy Fluff, M/M, Obsession, Pining, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:05:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1432867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrilu/pseuds/kyrilu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it comes down to it, there’s a difference between birds that want baubles and birds that want freedom. Graham belongs to the latter species.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so that i can run with the wolves

Matthew’s fingers jingle the keys in his white coat. They make a musical, twinkling sound that makes him feel restless, on edge. He taps his foot to the beat of it, but continues to wait. Even though he’s been a prisoner of a cell of his own, he’s never been one for waiting. He’s devised little memory tricks to preoccupy himself – _Maryland abolished the death penalty in 2013; Jack the Ripper once wrote_ You will soon hear of me with my funny little games; _Will Graham (“the Copycat Killer”) has been charged with the murders of Cassie Boyle, Georgia Madchen, Dr. Donald Sutcliffe, Marissa Schurr, and Abigail Hobbs_ – but it doesn’t often work long enough, and he’s left with impatience itching underneath his skin. It feels like he has wings, somewhere, hidden, waiting to unfurl until the time is right, just waiting.

He can hear Dr. Chilton making frustrated noises at Graham. Graham is a daydreamer. Unlike Matthew, he seems to sustain his own distractions long enough to bring him out of the present, and of course Chilton doesn’t appreciate it. He prods question after question at Graham, who provides monosyllabic answers or none at all. Matthew can’t blame Graham. Chilton’s an idiot, and anyway, even if Graham does co-operate with him, he’s not going to give a favorable testimony. Chilton’s the type that forms first impressions and often doesn’t let go of them.

It works very well for Matthew – that lisping, efficient orderly, who is not _crazy_ , not at all.

He finally sees Chilton stand from his chair, rising to leave. His mouth is drawn into a frown. In the silence, the irritable clicking of his pen sounds like a deafening noise.

Matthew goes to fetch Graham: opening the therapy cage, cuffing his wrists. One day, he thinks, Graham will turn that concentrated focus on Matthew, but not yet. Right now, he restricts any sudden movement, gentle, like he does around all the other prisoners, as if he doesn’t want to startle a wild animal.

He escorts Graham to his cell without any incident. Graham’s not like any of the others, who struggle or protest. Graham seems to _fade_ against Matthew, body language almost flowing against his.

_Empathy_ , his file says.

He doesn’t do it with the other orderlies. He _knows_ about Matthew, but it’s unconscious, something there inside of him that mimics him, recognizes him. It makes Matthew want to smile.

Chilton catches Matthew by the doorway at the end of the hall. He’s still clicking his pen. “Brown,” he says, shortly. “Take everything from Will Graham’s cell. Blankets, pillow case, toilet paper, soap. Everything, I don’t care what. Leave him with the bare minimum. You know the drill.”

It’s an old game of his: little tortures, petty torments. Matthew, with effort, doesn’t roll his eyes – _oh, Frederick, Mr. Graham doesn’t care about any of those things, and it’s not going to make him want to talk to_ you _any more_ – but he nods.

When it comes down to it, there’s a difference between birds that want baubles and birds that want freedom. Graham belongs to the latter species.

While Matthew wouldn’t mind watching Graham’s reaction, which would mostly likely be a disdainful smile before he zones out once again, his shift is over. He conveys Chilton’s demand to the other orderlies, and wonders if anything interesting will happen next.

 

* * *

 

Matthew has the night shift. When he returns to the hospital, he feels his feet trace its way to Graham’s cell, stopping to stand by the bars.

Graham is sleeping on his cot. He’s curled around himself, knees to his chest, arms hugging himself to generate his own blanket-less warmth. Matthew’s earlier comparison of Graham as a wild animal seems apt. Here is a bird in the cold, his feathers wild, his wings tucked around himself.

Matthew feels the keys in his pocket. Matthew lets himself into the cell, hears the door creak, and then close.

The other prisoners nearby are submerged in various stages of sleep: snoring, mumbling to themselves, all in a hazy drugged state that Matthew can remember too well. It must be hell for Graham, having his natural empathetic alertness stifled, numbed.

“They put you in a _zoo_ , Mr. Graham,” Matthew says, too quietly for anyone to hear. “They clipped your wings and put trackers there.”

He slips off his orderly coat. The slight chill is bearable enough – it must be very uncomfortable for Graham, though. He settles the coat across Graham, adjusting it around his shoulders and waist. Graham seems to relax a little, his arms loosening their grip. He’s warmer now.

Matthew smiles, can’t help but drag a hand across the surface of Graham’s curly hair, before pulling away.

Matthew settles onto the cell floor. It’s cold, hard, dirty, but from here, he can see Graham exhale and inhale, caught up in that imagination of his.

_One day, he can invite me there. He can show me what he sees._

There once was a nurse who poisoned her patients. She liked to get into bed with them, holding them against her while their life was slowly flickering away underneath her fingertips.

This is a calmer kind of thrill. Matthew is no angel of death, but he’d rather like that: to be Will Graham’s angel. He thinks about a bailiff that he has a brief acquaintance with, and the idea forms, grows, and he thinks that he can stretch out his wings to fly the both of them free.

 

* * *

 

(Will Graham wakes in the morning, cold and alone, with a dream of birds still lingering in his mind.)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written because:
> 
> A) a Silence of the Lambs reference
> 
> B) Bryan Fuller talking about Hannibal telling Will about Matthew - "Here is this person out there that loves you enough to do this act."
> 
> C) someone saying that they saw Matthew as Will's guardian angel, and finally,
> 
> D) I want to see a fan art of Will with Matthew's coat draped around him in some way, but because I can't draw at all, this is the best I can do.


End file.
